


i can't contain how i feel when your love shines down on me

by ericdire (aarobron)



Category: Men's Football RPF
Genre: Drunkenness, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-31
Updated: 2020-10-31
Packaged: 2021-03-08 18:27:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,178
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27301180
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aarobron/pseuds/ericdire
Summary: It's Trent's birthday, so naturally, he holds a big party.
Relationships: Virgil van Dijk/Jordan Henderson
Comments: 1
Kudos: 13





	i can't contain how i feel when your love shines down on me

**Author's Note:**

> i literally wrote this over a year ago, [when we beat leicester 2-1](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RcR38w8Fp78), and then forgot about it. found it a few weeks ago and finished it so here you go! enjoy.
> 
> happy reading xoxox

It's Trent's birthday, so naturally, he holds a big party.

It's not just the birthday they're celebrating though, not really - shithousing the win against Leicester made all of them giddy with excitement, plus _both_ the Manchester teams losing… Well, let's just say there's a lot to be happy about this weekend.

Jordan loves Trent, he really does, but he's starting to think agreeing to come was a bad idea. It was alright at first; Trent had hired out a bar and invited most of his closest friends and family, people that mattered, and he'd also paid for a free bar. It was nice, seeing friends that Jordan hadn't bumped into for a long time, and Virgil was a warm, solid presence at his side for most of the night.

Here, in this room, with these people, nobody cares about him and Virgil. Nobody blinked twice at the arm around Jordan's waist, or how close Virgil's mouth was to his skin when he bent down to whisper something in his ear.

But now they’ve been here for a couple of hours, and Virgil is taking advantage of the free bar. Not that he needs to, Jordan reminds him whenever he slurs out the excuse, considering how much money he’s got sitting in the bank, but his eyes are sparkling when he shrugs and says it’s the principle that matters.

Virgil can’t handle his alcohol. He’s a big, six-foot-something centre back that scares the shit out of everyone that doesn’t actually _know_ him, but give him a few beers and he’s suddenly one of the sloppiest drunks Jordan has ever met. It’s ridiculous, considering that Jordan is usually sober when it happens. 

They’re sat in a booth, Virgil on his fifth beer and Jordan cradling a bottle of water, and Gini and Robbo are opposite them, deep in conversation about something or other. Jordan can’t actually follow what they’re saying, because Virgil is leaning on him, arm stretched across the back of the bench and forehead resting against his temple. Every time Jordan tries to pay attention, Virgil pouts, bottom lip catching on the sharp line of the older man’s cheekbone.

“Been a good weekend,” Virgil says, voice hoarse and low right in Jordan’s ear. His entire face is lit up, cheeks rounded from the force of his smile, and he sounds happier than he has since- well, since they were crowned champions of Europe. “Shame it has to end, really.”

“Wouldn’t say that in front of the Leicester boys,” Jordan teases, placing his hand on Virgil’s thigh. He’s warm even through the thick denim of his jeans, and his breath hitches when Jordan’s thumb brushes up the inseam.

“Scout’s honour,” Virgil says somberly. He presses a kiss against Jordan’s cheek and doesn’t notice Gini and Robbo giving them a second glance, but Jordan does. He shoots them a smile, tightening his grip on Virgil’s leg, because even though he’d normally be pushing him away – hissing something about being in public – he can’t quite find it in himself to be bothered tonight.

Virgil is affectionate, sweet and kind, when he’s drunk, and they’ve just had a great weekend, and they’re _celebrating_. It’s Trent’s birthday, and they’re in a room full of people who know about them and don’t give a fuck. It doesn’t matter if Virgil is all over him, if he hugs him or kisses him or tells him he loves him, because they’re allowed to be here. Here, they can really be themselves.

“Need another drink,” Virgil says, shaking his empty beer bottle. He’s pouting again, and makes to stand up, but Jordan grabs his wrist and pulls him back down. He lands on the bench with a thud and a soft _oof_ , looking at Jordan curiously.

“You don’t need any more booze,” he chides gently, nudging Virgil’s chin with his knuckles. He’s got that smile on his face, that soft, hazy tipsy one, and it suits him – but Jordan also doesn’t want to be nursing him through his hangover in the morning. “You’ve got a flight to catch tomorrow teatime, and I’m not listening to you complain about how shit you feel.” 

“Don’t remind me,” Virgil grumbles, but he takes the bottle of water Jordan offers him anyway. He takes a few long, thoughtful sips, and then suddenly pulls Jordan into a half hug, fierce but no less caring. “Let’s not talk about it tonight, yeah? I just want to think about good things tonight.” 

“Okay,” Jordan agrees. His voice is soft because he knows exactly what Virgil means; he always dreads international break, resents it, almost, because he hates the thought of spending two whole weeks in a completely different country to Virgil. Sure, they text and FaceTime and send weird little voice notes about the most random things, but he hates not being able to fall asleep next to him.

“Virgil!” Gini yells above the music, slapping at his wrist to get his attention. He waits patiently until Virgil has dragged his gaze away from Jordan’s face and then smiles, patting his hand in apology for the slap. “Harry's brought Nathan along, they've just got here."

Virgil follows Gini's line of gaze and his eyes settle on the two guests, and a grin slowly spreads across his face. "Nathan. Nathan Aké!" He exclaims, a bit too excitedly. Jordan doesn't quite get it - they're about to spend two weeks together anyway. "Come on then, what are you waiting for?"

Gini is already up and waiting, but Virgil pauses halfway out of the booth, kneeling across and curling his palm around Jordan's cheek. "I'll be back in a minute," he murmurs, tilting their foreheads together. 

"Try not to miss me too much," Jordan says, sounding amused, but Virgil doesn't seem to notice. He just smiles lazily, tips of his fingers brushing gently against the short hairs behind Jordan's ear like he can't quite drag himself away. Gini clears his throat pointedly.

"I always miss you," Virgil says. He leans down and presses three chaste, rapid kisses to Jordan's lips, one after the other, and then he's gone, arm around Gini's shoulders as he leads them over to Harry and Nathan. Jordan feels dazed, staring at his boyfriend's retreating form as he subconsciously brings a hand up to touch his mouth, where it's still tingling. Sparks and flames, burning at Jordan's skin just from a simple look.

He always feels like this after Virgil kisses him. He's lost count now, even though it's probably well up in the thousands, and it never gets boring.

But Virgil is captivating, both in spirit and soul, and Jordan spends every second of every day wrapped up in him. Dazzled by the way he talks and walks and smiles, and blessed by the way he touches Jordan skin.

He makes Jordan feel like there is nobody else in the entire world, and that –– that is enough to keep him going for the rest of his life.

It might be Trent’s birthday, but Jordan feels like celebrating Virgil, instead. 

He’s celebrating their love.

**Author's Note:**

> find me on tumblr @ [georginiwijnaldum](https://georginiwijnaldum.tumblr.com/) xo


End file.
